It’s interesting to be posting on the topic of postfeminism on International Women’s Day. Feminism is a word that is continuously
tossed around in conversation and on social media. Postfeminism on the other
hand is not always directly talked about because for many it has been put into
the same context on feminism. All the articles talked heavily on postfeminism,
popular culture, and inclusion of all women. This idea of inclusion of all
women is a concept that seems to be continuously overlooked when it comes to
talk about feminism and postfeminism. Jess Butler’s article, “For White Girls
Only? Postfeminism and the Politics of Inclusion”, touches on a lot of the
thoughts many women of color have when it comes to postfeminism.
Whenever there is talk of anything related to feminism or
postfeminism, most women of color agree with the ideas behind them, but at the
same time know that it doesn’t always benefit them. As Butler says, many
scholars have come to the conclusion that “postfeminism works to exclude women
of color and reproduce racial inequality by reinstituting (Western) whiteness
as a dominant cultural norm” (47). Whiteness has been the standard in many
areas for years, so it comes as no surprise that it’s the same with
postfeminism. A movement that is meant to include all women finds a way to
exclude women, but I wouldn’t say it’s on purpose. Butler finds this notion of
women of color not appearing in postfeminist popular culture as unfounded by
giving examples of some shows, films, and music icons that embody postfeminism.
I have a problem with the choice of shows she chooses but at the same time I’m
not surprised by the choices. All the shows she picked are reality shows that
are meant to entertain and as Springer argues, add a form of spice and
“seasoning that can liven up the dull dish that is mainstream white culture”
(50). Personally I’m not a fan of many of them, especially Love & Hip Hop, because even though it teaches women that they
can be comfortable in their skin it at the same time reinforces the idea that
music careers is the best path.
Maybe I’m not completely understanding the concept of
postfeminism, but what I’ve gathered from it is that women learn to be
comfortable with themselves and embrace who they are regardless of society’s
standards for what women should be. If that's the general idea behind postfeminism, then including all women, regardless of race, ethnicity, or sexuality, shouldn't be an issue.
This week has put
me in the position where all my ideas about feminism has been complicated and
quite frankly, it is difficult to determine a clear stance on the topic, which
is probably a good thing, since according to our writers this week, there has
been much disagreement within feminist ideas throughout history.What is crucial however is realizing the
differences between post-feminism and third wave, which I formally associated
together as one unified movement.Butler
asserts that we should not consider post-feminism as a movement, but rather a
sensibility, one, which can be adopted under certain circumstances (44).The collective narrative of this week’s
writers seems to be that the difference betweenthird wave and post-feminism is that while the first disengages and
complicates the past only to further the movement in a new trajectory, the
latter dismisses feminism altogether.This puts me at a weird position because everything that may have seemed
positive in terms of race and gender before, are now being problematized,
except of course for the seemingly obvious examples that are problematic,like shows like Sex and the City or Totally
Spies.(Do you guys remember Totally Spies, it was this show about
hyper-feminine girls stopping evil and dating boys using devices like hair
dryers and lipstick lasers and well you get the picture…loved that show though
lol).
Anyway, between
Mcrobbie’s article and Butler, the statement is made that the commodification
of race and gender, while adding visibility to underrepresented groups, renders
invisible the struggles of the past and any necessary need for identity
politics in the present. Nickelodeon in some ways is amazing for influencing
girl power, but in their invocation of the urban, the representations can
linger in the realm of the problematic.A
recent example of this is Nickelodeon calling upon the past star, Kel Mitchell,
and pairing him with recent nickelodeon star Benjamin Flores Jr, in their
portrayal of a hip hop artist and his son.Their identity of these two black actors with past success on the
channel,are constructed to be rappers
juxtaposing the two middle class white children whose fame comes from creating
a start up company.Here the show
presents two models of success, but pits their differences in terms of “cool”
and “techie”.
When business
people start to market these identities or “flavas” as Mcrobbie would refer to
them, the situation is similar to how it feels when your parents use young peoples’ slang.Quite frankly it is weird to have your mom
say, “how was school darling, I hope it is lit?”In the same token, when difference becomes
“cool” through business standards by assumable upper-class business identities,
inherently something problematic arises.What is cool usually does not align itself neatly with the
mainstream.In other words, these gender
and racial identities in this neoliberal context are becoming new hegemonies in
television (Butler 45). With it, old systems of power are reinstituted by rendering
the ongoing problems invisible and instead difference becomes a masquerade, a
term Butler uses frequently, putting me in the mind to Doane’s notion of
masquerading femininity when it proves to be beneficial. I like that the writer uses Nicki Minaj as an
example of post feminism, because just as I am confused about feminism, Nicki Minaj
does not provide fans with a cohesive idea, rejecting any type of
labeling.She labels herself as a
Barbie, but features this image dismembered on her first album cover (36), perhaps to connote her fractured
identity.Besides her multiple personas,
her album playlist differs in styles through the progression of each song.She switches from hardcore rap, masculine in
nature not by the genre but in her phallic references, to a heteronormative
love song.Her entire style is comprised
of several styles, displaying a fractured idea of femininity and feminism
alike.Also, addressing the labeling of
public figures, I am unsure of our current status on feminist and race politics,
but perhaps we are in a post-post stage, where these identity problems are more
visible, but at the same time still are being commoditized.I think more towards the construction of the
recent 2016 Oscars and Beyonce’s most recent brand shift.Throughout this week, classmates taking the
cultural studies’ course have been discussing an article about how Beyonce is
post-racial because of her refusal to discuss those topics, opening up her image
to the same criticism of The Cosby Show.However, in her last album, she features a
direct invocation of feminism in the song Flawless
and in Formation she makes her
identity as black apparent for the masses. Is she forced to make this shift to resist any labeling of a post identity? For the Oscars, comedian Chris Rock promotes a discourse on racial
exclusion in the Oscars and comments on black artists protesting the show.However, keeping in mind that the entire show
is scripted, how much of this discourse is contrived or being used as an
attempt to eliminate the need for discussion.By making it, “cool” to talk about identity politics blatantly, are we
creating a false hope similar to the phrase, “oh, I’ll fix that eventually, but
at least we talked about it.” These are questions I ask myself I just want to
present as I flood the bottom of this post with memes and videos… J
GAME SHAKERS TRAILER
TOTALLY SPIES OPENING (Omg it is coming to netflix haha)
In reference to Kendrick Lamar's performance at Grammy's, ( The Cutaway to the audience and the use of Black identity politics in award shows )
In all three articles this week, questions about the ontology of twenty-first century feminism itself take precedence over the close readings of texts and, to a certain extent, all three are more interested in descriptive readings (and re-writings) of feminist history (particularly, though not exclusively, with regards to popular culture and media) than prescriptive manifestos for feminism’s future. The contentious relationship between third wave feminism and postfeminism is at stake for all three authors. Where Banet-Weiser provides a more positive reading of third-wave feminism, holding it (and particularly its conceptions of empowerment and consumerism) in contrast with postfeminism’s more patently capitalist agenda (Banet-Weiser 209), Butler complicates this by emphasizing the “fundamentally neoliberal” (Butler 42) space of the third wave, arguing that it, too, lends itself to a depoliticization of feminism, an ongoing disavowal of racism, and an excessively uncomplicated celebration of sexuality that [has] continued to privilege a white middle-class, heterosexual feminist subject” (Butler 40). McRobbie, in her genealogy of postfeminism, concludes that “relations of power are are indeed made and re-made within texts of enjoyment and rituals of relaxation and abandonment” (McRobbie 262), justifying her readings of lighthearted “women’s media” such as Bridget Jones’ Diary as politically and socially relevant. Similarly, in investigating Dora the Explorer, Banet-Weiser is interested in the ways that contemporary media, with both its “postfeminist” and “postracial” imperative, works to “constitute audiences as particular kinds of cultural citizens” (Banet-Weiser 223).
As I read all of these pieces, I became (perhaps anachronistically) interested in how potentially postfeminist media, which, according to all these articles, so often focuses (to its benefit and detriment) on pleasure and empowerment, might handle questions of trauma, violence, and pain. Equally, none of these pieces seem especially interested in a postfeminist viewership or audience, which seems to me at least as important as the media itself. I would like to consider media at two levels: first, Law and Order: Special Victims Unit, a show which has had an enormously successful and lengthy run (17 seasons and counting!), and second, Emily Nussbaum’s 2013 New Yorker piece on the show’s so-called “pulp appeal” for women, entitled “Trauma Queen.” Nussbaum is interested in the show’s enormous success with young women, in spite of -- or due to -- its reliably horrific and explicit narratives of sexual assault, with an overwhelming majority of female-identifying victims. Nussbaum writes: “For survivors, there may be something validating about seeing one’s worst experiences taken seriously, treated not as the B story but as the main event. But the show also has a strange therapeutic quality for any woman, a ritualistic confrontation with fear...and, of course, the show is also a fantasy about something else, something largely out of reach: an incorruptible legal system, in which the police are eternally in the rape victim’s corner.”
Where is the neoliberalism here? Is it in Nussbaum, a white woman who, for all her good intentions, purports to speak for “all women,” or in SVU, which (and it is worth noting that the show presents a whitewashed view of New York City) so strenuously juggles a pro-victim and pro-police standpoint? Nussbaum notes that “none of this would work if it weren’t for [Mariska Hargitay’s] Benson, a Xena with empathy, the woman created from -- but not destroyed by -- rape. The worse the stories get, the stronger she becomes; it’s the show’s unspoken dialectic.” The double bind of the female police officer, always over- or pre-signified as a potential victim (past, present, future), always being policed as she polices, is brought out in a character like Olivia Benson, and I would argue that it is in this harkening back to, and acknowledgment of, past trauma that the show escapes some of the pitfalls of postfeminism, celebrating, certainly, the individual strength and “empowerment” of a woman (who represents an entire, deeply oppressive state institution) but without denying or diminishing the significance of her own victimhood and her status as gendered.
Ultimately, however, Nussbaum concludes that SVU is excessive, dramatic, and perhaps exploitative, but the true fantasy it puts forth is this: “we expect [the show] to keep one promise: no matter how bad things get, the story will end.” In its formulaic, comfortingly predictable plot structure, the show (in spite of its complicated heroine) provides a kind of resolution that keeps it in many ways deeply in line with the project of postfeminism, forecloses its own future, and indulges the fantasy of a ‘clean start’ with each new set of opening credits, containing, regulating, and controlling women’s trauma in a way that bears increasingly little relation to the realities victims in America face today.
Although all three of this week’s readings focused on the
implications of postfeminism in our contemporary media landscape, each piece also
touched on postfeminism in relation to race, popular culture, and consumerism. Sarah
Banet-Weiser’s “What’s Your Flava? Race and Postfeminism in Media Culture”
particularly underscores the capitalist imperative of postfeminism, which is
fueled by a focus on individualism and “rhetorics of choice reframed in terms
of consumer purchases,” (pg. 233). An obvious example of the consequences of postfeminism
is the existence and celebration of Sex
and the City, but there are numerous series that followed suit, such as Gossip Girl, or as I will argue in my
presentation this week, Girls. Though
the latter does not blatantly showcase consumerism and consumption in the same
manner as the former two, each show focuses on women who are “empowered” and
use their purchasing power as an enactment of their individuality.
In “For White Girls Only? Postfeminism and the Politics of
Inclusion,” Jess Butler outlines a notion of postfeminism based on narrative,
performance, and/or text. This list follows the work of Rosalind Gill, who
argued that postfeminism “should be conceived of as a sensibility that
characterizes an ever-increasing number of cultural forms,” (pg. 43). I believe
that all six characteristics presented by Butler are showcased in Sex and the City, but in particular a “shift
from sexual objectification to sexual subjectification,” “self-surveillance,
self-discipline, and a makeover paradigm,” the emphasis of “individualism,
choice, and empowerment as the primary route to a women’s independence and
freedom,” and the promotion of “consumerism and the commodification of
difference,” (pg. 44). Carrie, Samantha, Miranda, and Charlotte all find
empowerment in their sexuality, individualism, and imagined consumer power.
Each character is hyper-aware of her appearance and how she is perceived by
others, particularly men. Each woman also uses consumption as a way to enact
individuality and choice.
Particularly in the episode screened in class, ironically
titled “A Woman’s Right to Shoes,” Carrie bases the essence of her womanhood on
a pair of Manolo Blahniks. Outside of the context of the series, it seems that
Carrie’s ability to reduce her individuality and agency to something so trivial
is in part due to her status as a white, upper middle class, heterosexual
woman. Carrie, Samantha, Miranda, and Charlotte are all able to indulge in a seemingly
unruffled postfeminist lifestyle because of their status, which is not afforded
to most women.
After watching Sex and the City last week,
I remembered seeing a blurb awhile back that said Sarah
Jessica Parker identified as a humanist rather than a feminist. I typically
roll my eyes at statements like these because I do not have faith in
celebrities to clearly articulate what they mean and so they use words that
sound smart, but do not necessarily mean what they think they mean.
However, a closer look at Parker's words indicates that
perhaps she is a feminist after all - even more in-line with third-wave
feminism too. "As [playwright] Wendy Wasserstein would say, I'm a
humanist. I'm enormously appreciative of the work that my mother's generation
did. We are the beneficiaries of a lot of disappointment, heartache,
discouragement, and misunderstanding. But I see a lot of people trying to sort
out their roles. People of color, gays, lesbians, and transgenders who are
carving out this space. I’m not spitting in the face or being lazy about
what still needs to be done — but I don’t think it’s just women anymore. We
would be so enormously powerful if it were a humanist movement."
I'm left wondering if Parker's response is a product of
"postfeminism," particularly Jess Butler's explication that
postfeminsim "implies that gender equality has been achieved and feminist activism
is thus no longer necessary" (44). Parker who is the idealized postfeminist
subject since she is white, Western and a heterosexual woman (47) may have the privilege
of a false consciousness to believe that the battle for her is over. In her
mind she has moved passed feminism to “humanism.” Butler offers a solid analysis
as to why someone could think like Parker. She writes, “Propped up by the (imagined)
success of the women’s movement, a sex-positive (and racially exclusive)
feminist legacy, and the ever-expanding neoliberal celebration of autonomy,
individualism, and consumer choice, postfeminism surfaces as a more attractive
alternative to previous forms of gender politics” (41).
Parker’s statement opens up an interesting question. As
feminism’s inclusivity continues to expand, how does it convince others to
remove prior conceptions of exclusivity and deal with competing postfeminism’s requirement that “women ‘be who they want to
be’ – just as long it is not a feminist” (44)?
